


Words don't mean a Thing

by Hotalando



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Feels, Parenthood, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 20:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotalando/pseuds/Hotalando
Summary: How important the sound of a voice can be becomes evident when you've never heard it call out for you. But how do you liberate the silent when they have never said a word?





	Words don't mean a Thing

## A word for _us_

He rolls over to his side of the bed. Emotionally and mentally unaccomplished unlike his physical shape suggests. It should take some time for his pants to fade out—the effort greater than usual—but his mind is racing and churning the emotions inside his chest aggressively to tune out the aftermath of the physical pleasure. 

Pleasure tastes so bitter. There is only the kind that his body felt left—still he always falls for the taunt, he always tries to make it work for the both of them but lately,

Lately, he can‘t even find a sparkle in her eyes. 

Her back offers a hint of the tension she is holding inside. Little light lingers on the outline of her body, so curvy and perfect, even after all that it‘s been through. Soft wavy hair lies on her upper arm, curled around the marked skin like an ornament. As if they haven‘t just mingled with the bed sheets, as if she hasn‘t moved at all from her side of the bed since dinner. 

A shiver rushes through his limbs when he dares to place his warm palm on her arm—and it‘s cold. How? Hasn‘t she just lied in his arms? Haven‘t his lips just touched each inch of her body, his hands roamed over every area to make her feel warmer, to make her feel better? 

His thumb rubs gently over her tattoo, he knows it‘s useless to try and warm her up. He knows it‘s useless to try and cheer her up. There is nothing he can say anymore, he doesn‘t know what they should do, could do, _must_ do. He himself wishes for someone to explain it to them or someone to fix it. 

No more confident, no more convinced, he whispers, “It‘ll be alright. She‘s only two.“ 

Her breath is shaky, her voice dry. “You don‘t have to keep saying these things… You hurt yourself.“ 

And how it stings. Her agony, the cause of it, the consequences of it, his powerlessness. This faint is sucking on his nerves and soul. He has always thought that there wouldn‘t be only good times. Being them together is difficult enough, becoming parents of two girls called for trouble. 

The good kind. The kind of trouble when you get called by the kindergarten because your kid has gotten into a brawl. The kind of trouble when you (he in particular) are in charge of picking up the kiddo from kendo class and you roughly make it on time. The kind of trouble when the girls repaint the walls with crayons and you don‘t bother until their mother comes home and scolds all three of you. 

But this isn‘t the good kind. It‘s the bad kind. It‘s the kind that makes you worry about your kid‘s health, about your parenting. Your family.

She turns onto her back, hair falling like feathers over her face, partially hiding her bare breasts. No smile, no emotion at all lies in the pale illuminated areas on her face. At least she isn‘t irritated or mad at him. 

Hesitation isn‘t his thing. Patience only sometimes works out for him, most of the times he acts on impulse—although he has changed when it comes to parenting. Maturity has finally made its way into his life via fatherhood. 

He brushes strands out of her face and leans in for a soft kiss. Hands palm his cheeks, the kiss intensifies only so little but she feels him and he makes sure she knows what he feels for her. Unchanged, strong, pure love—not her past, not his wild character, not the close calls that each pregnancy was. Not anyone who disbelieved their feelings and dedication, who wished them to fail. 

Nothing will ever change his feelings for her. 

She needs to know. In times like these. At all times. 

“I don‘t mind if she was just a quiet child,“ she breaks the silence after the content calmness sept out of the moment. Her voice is trembling again, her eyes carry too many tears. “But what if she gets hurt when no one is around and her voice doesn‘t work? What if she can‘t call for help?“

Tongue-tied. Again, he‘s lost for words. Lost for reassurance. But he tries. “She‘s a strong girl, she’ll figure it out–“

“She‘s only two, Luffy!“ Trembling, no longer out of sadness and worry. It‘s frustrating. 

“I know, I… She’ll be fine. She‘s just late with it, I was too but I could climb trees like no one else,“ he suggests as argumentation. “Chopper got in touch with someone for us. Everything‘ll be alright.“ 

The kiss to her forehead doesn‘t touch her at all. 

“Mhm…“ She tries to turn his back on him again. 

“Nami, please…“ His arms lock her in place again, no emotions in between but the despair and frustration. 

She frowns darkly at him. The atmosphere has changed. “What! You want me to stop worrying? You think some fucking every night makes it better?“ 

“What the hell! That‘s not the point! You know you‘ve been getting me into it–“

“Oh! So now just a blink turns you hot? Do I have to worry about all those girls at your classes now? Is it so easy for you to get ’into it‘?“

“No! I didn't– _what_ is wrong?“ Luffy calms his voice before it matches her agitated tone. 

Abrupt silence. She‘s unable to hold his gaze, her head tilts to the side away from him. She never means any of the insults she throws at him. She‘s so tensed. So stressed. So worried. 

“Nami…” He has never been one for pet names. “I don’t want to do this against your will but you don’t say no, you even pull me in… But I notice you’re not really into it. We don’t have to fuck each night.”

She quickly turns to him. “But I’m currently able to get pregnant and we talked about–“

“I know! And hell, I want another kid with you but this stuff with Hana is enough for now, don’t you think?” A pain shoots through his skull and he rubs his temple to soothe the ache. “There’s still so much time… We’re only in our twenties.” 

A tear rolls down her cheek. A hand reaches up to massage his head. “I put too much pressure on you… I’m so sorry.” Nami pulls him in for a kiss. “I need to be stronger.” 

“You are. And it’s okay to break sometimes. Hana worries us all,” Luffy whispers and plants several kisses on the wet lines on her cheeks. 

“I’ve never heard her say ‘mama’.” 

“Nami,” Luffy sighs heavily and looks deeply into her glassy eyes, “ _you_ ’re hurting yourself. She loves you ‘cause you’re her mama. Even if she doesn’t say it, she means it.” A weak smile accompanies the broken look in her eyes. “She’s never called me ‘papa’ either.” 

“But she sticks to you so much. She loves being around you.” 

“To whom she goes when she needs a hairdo? With whom does she play dressup all the time? She revolves around you whenever you’re off from work,” Luffy counters with a chuckle curving up his lips. He loves being the fashion judge. He hates fashion. But he loves his girls. 

“But she goes to you when she’s in trouble.” Nami’s fingers rub in circles on his temple. 

“I think she doesn’t want to be scolded like Zoro or Usopp get by you,” Luffy frowns, her caress makes it harder to concentrate. 

“I could never do that to my family,” Nami hums almost melodically, the kind of sound Luffy feels in every cell of his body. 

He can’t hold his amusement, “You used to punch me the same way.” Until the last trimester of the first pregnancy when everything was at danger. 

“You’re way too kind to me—it perfectly makes up for all the mistakes you do. There’re none to begin with,” Nami smiles warmly, “besides—I don’t want you to look all punched up on family photos.”

“So that’s the real reason.”

“You jerk!” Nami laughs and nudges Luffy’s shoulder with her fist. “No, you’re perfect. And I don’t want any punching in this family. No violence, we agreed on this.” 

“Yeah, we did,” Luffy smiles back and pecks her lips. “You’re a terrible liar though. I do make mistakes. Like not being on time to pick up the kids or feeding them the wrong foods…”

“That you never scold them for doing bad things, you allowed Lulu to cut her dolls’ hairs, you never clean up where you studied, you forget to buy half of the things I write down for you… _But_ ,” Nami pauses with an emphasised _but_ , “you did the diapers, you dealt with Lulu when she had stomach flu and threw up so much. You do all the ugly things. And you’re so good to the girls. And to me.” 

“But that’s necessary if I wanna keep you three,” Luffy laughs, “And I’d do anything to make you guys happy.” 

“As if I could ever not be happy with you at my side,” Nami sighs a little love drunk and for the first time in weeks, she feels lighthearted. 

They are an intact family—more than either Luffy nor she have ever had—no matter if Hana will ever be able to say it. They are a family, even without words.

**Author's Note:**

> That's a quick plot idea I had out of nowhere so this is going to be a maybe five-chapter-long fic, maximum. Maybe even shorter. I'm never so sure about my LuNa fics, especially when they're AU... oh well. Matured up Luffy is always difficult to write but I enjoy the challenge too much.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> PS: Rated M mostly because it's hard to write those two without bad language... And I'm not sure yet how intense their "bedstories" will be. Just to be safe, it's rated M.


End file.
